Snaring the Huntress

As she had every night for the last week, Star woke up without an orgasm.

Running her hands through her sweat-dampened hair, she growled in frustration. There was something fundamentally wrong with having a totally hot sex dream that didn’t end with her getting off.

“Dreaming of him again?”

The soft feminine voice echoed through the metal confines of Star’s ship.

Tossing aside her coverlet, she hopped out of bed, too worked-up to go back to sleep. “Yes, damn it. The bastard. If I didn’t want to f**k him so bad, I’d kick his ass.”

“You do realize you are speaking of a figment of your imagination?”

“Yeah, I know, Two-Thousand. I’m losing it from lack of sleep.” Naked, she padded barefoot down the hallway until she reached the bridge. “The craziest part is I still have no idea what he looks like. He’s just this yummy deep voice in the darkness. I swear that voice makes me so hot.” And his hands—those warm, tender hands. They knew just where to touch her, stroke her, caress her.

She shivered.

“Why do you wake up?”

“Because he leaves!” Star complained. “Right before we f**k, he leaves.”

Dropping into the captain’s chair, she checked out the navigational readings. “How are we doing time wise?”

“Excellent. You will be on top of your fugitive soon.”

“Good. I could really blow off some steam right about now.”

“Will you kill him when you capture him?”

Star sighed at the question, and turned her gaze away from the cockpit window and its view of the galaxy beyond.

“Probably.”

“You answered with very little hesitation.”

Shrugging, Star kicked her feet upward to rest on the console. She’d purchased the newest model Starwing with the bonus earned from her last capture. “Why feed him rations all the way back to Primus when they’ll just kill him when we get there? I’m a hunter of criminals, not a restaurant. Besides, he’ll be a handful. I don’t want to deal with him.”

“While I agree that is practical, do you not worry that perhaps the Supreme Court Justices passed sentence too quickly?”

“You know,” Star grumbled, “for a computer, you do a lot of hypothetical thinking.”

“All correctional CPUs are programmed to second-guess decisions. It helps keep judges on their toes.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know the rules, Two-Thousand, and so did he. Jacians can’t be on the loose when their heat is on them.

They can’t control their sexual urges, and if they’re not locked up with their preassigneds, they’ll rape or go irreversibly crazy. It’s just that simple.”

“For you, maybe.” If her computer could have sighed, it would have. “What if he was not attracted to his pre-assigned partner?”

Leaning forward, Star snatched up her nail file and began to shorten her claws. The damn things grew like weeds. “When a Jacian is in heat, even a deck plate is attractive.”

“Regardless, how would you like being locked in a room with someone you would not want to have sexual intercourse with?”

Star rolled her eyes and shot a quick glance at the console readout. They were five clicks away from Rashier 6. Intel had reported that the Jacian had last been seen there. If his med file was correct, he’d be entering his heat now, which effectively trapped him on the planet. His body couldn’t do anything for the next week besides f**k. “You’re missing the point. He’s so desperate for it right now, he’d want to have sex with you.”

“Funny, Star.”

“Actually, it’s not. Poor bastard. At this moment, his brain is so sexually focused that piloting a ship is impossible, and using mass transport would get him arrested.”